Ocean Point - Part 5

Bethany stood there staring down at his body lying on the floor. She took a second to look around room. She was going off the cuff now. She wasn’t exactly sure where she was going to restrain him. And then she spotted the grate. Of course, how could she not have remembered? There were grates in all of the rooms. They weren’t used for anything anymore. She didn’t even know what their original use had been.

She bent down and grabbed Christopher under his arms. It was adrenaline again that helped her as she dragged him across the room. There were three grates in the salon, one by the door, one by the window, and the third on a wall with no exits. That’s the one she chose. She went back to the closet, where she had been lying in wait for him, and retrieved her purse. Not only did she have the vial and the syringe inside, she also had a pair of handcuffs. She tightened one cuff around his left wrist and attached the other to the grate.

There was nothing to do but wait. She walked over to the table by the door and picked up her glass. She went back to the cabinet and refreshed her bourbon. As she made her way to the sofa, she saw an issue of Town & Country magazine. It seemed like the perfect way to pass the time while waiting for Christopher to wake up. She had bourbon and a magazine. And without even realizing it, she had Journey. She heard herself singing along. As the song ended, she realized her heart rate was only slightly elevated. She turned off the power to the entertainment system. She would be back to normal in no time. All she needed was a good article in the magazine and the drink in her hand.

Waiting was the hardest part. She’d been waiting for 10 years. It hadn’t taken her 10 years to recover, but she hadn’t had the strength or courage to face him until now. She had been afraid to see him again. She wasn’t afraid that he would hurt her; she just thought it would break her heart. It took the years of creating her new life, keeping her gnawing past at bay, to finally make her snap. It was like waking up one morning and deciding that enough was enough. She had suffered enough at his hands and she was tired of it. It was time for him to suffer. She needed to move on with her life.

Christopher moaned as he started to wake up. He wasn’t out for very long. She hadn’t given him a full dose, only enough to knock him out for about an hour. She didn’t want this to take all night.

“Ivy?” he said as he began to sit up.

“It’s not Ivy,” said Bethany. She watched him for any recollection of the voice.

“Who then?” he said struggling to get out the words. “What do you want, money? I have money.”

“I know you have money, Christopher, but I don’t want any of it.”

“Help me,” he said trying to lift his head and see his attacker.

Bethany was sitting on the sofa directly across from Christopher. She wasn’t moving. She was just waiting for the realization to sink in. She knew his memory would come back or his vision would clear and he would see her.

She could see it happen, the fog in his brain clearing, because he started to struggle with the handcuffs. Then he looked directly at her.

“Bethany?” said Christopher, disorientation and confusion turning to realization.

“I’m sure you must be surprised to see me,” replied Bethany as she sat there staring at him. “You see, the man you used to help you ‘fix’ all of your problems, your mistakes, he was also a friend of mine.” Bethany took a drink from the glass she was holding. “He couldn’t carry out your wish to hide me somewhere and leave me to die. But see, because you didn’t want to know any of the details, he wasn’t obliged to tell you that he had actually taken me to the home of a doctor friend of his.”

“Bethany,” he started to cry. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” replied Christopher through his tears.

“You’re sorry? For what, Christopher?” she paused for thought. “That you strangled me? That you hit me in the head? That you told someone to dispose of me? That you married another woman? That you continued to live your life?” Again she paused. “Which is it Christopher?” She nearly spat the words at him. “Maybe you’re sorry because you have to face me.”

“No. I’m sorry that any of it happened,” cried Christopher.

“I want you to tell me why Christopher,” said Bethany. She was angry, but calm. She just wanted the answer. “Why did you try to kill me?”

“I freaked out. There’s really no other explanation,” said Christopher. He was fidgeting with the handcuff. “The first thing that went through my mind was that you’d divorce me. I-I snapped. I-,” he took a breath, “I didn’t know how I would survive without my money,” He blurted out the words. “I know that sounds shallow, but I’m being honest.”

“Good, I want you to be honest because that’s exactly what I’m going to be,” replied Bethany. “I suffered Christopher. Not only did my marriage end, my life ended. At least my life as I knew it. My life as Bethany”

She watched him sitting on the floor, crying like a defeated child.

“Do you know how long it took to regain my memory, to fully start living again? Sometimes I’m thankful for the year of amnesia. It allowed me a small amount of protection from you. I struggled, physically and mentally, to get well enough to live my life again.”

“I’m sorry, Bethany.”

“I still suffer, Christopher,” said Bethany as a single tear rolled down her face. She shook her head and she wiped it away. “I can’t believe I’m crying. You don’t deserve my tears. I’ve cried enough over this.”

“What can I say, Bethany? What can I do?”

“Nothing! I wouldn’t believe you anyway,” replied Bethany. She put her hand to her mouth as if to stop her chin from quivering and looked away.

Without looking at him, “How did you explain my absence?” she asked. As she completed the question, she turned back to him. She wanted to look him straight in the eye when he gave his answer.

“I told the police, and our friends, that you went out for a drive and never returned home,” said Christopher.

“That must have been difficult for you Christopher,” said Bethany with honey soaked sarcasm. “You had to play the sad, worried husband in public while counting your money and having sex with Ivy in private.” She paused. “Must have been tough,” she added in a whisper with a heartless edge.

“You don’t have to be so mean, Bethany,” replied Christopher.

“How long did people search for me? You must have been so relieved that my parents were dead so that you didn’t have to contend with them searching for their little girl, and all the questions they would have asked.”

“The case is a cold case that is closed as far as I know,” said Christopher. He couldn’t look at her. His head was hanging in shame.

“That’s good. That means aside from you and Ivy and our mutual friend, no one from here knows where I am, or if I’m even alive.”

“I could tell the truth,” said Christopher. His voice had an air of pleading to it and hopefulness as if his idea of telling the truth would actually set him free.

“Don’t you want to know where I’ve been all this time?”

He didn’t reply.

“It doesn’t matter, I’m going to tell you anyway. There’s no reason for me to keep it secret,” said Bethany. She took a deep breath and released it. “The doctor, whose house I was taken to, had connections at a hospital in Delaware. I was airlifted to Sussex County General and admitted under an assumed name.” She took a sip of the bourbon. It was harder than she thought to reveal the privacy of her new life to him.

“Our mutual friend helped me slowly empty my bank accounts. Not that you would have cared or even noticed it was happening. I didn’t know who I was at that point. He repeated my history to me daily. He convinced me that I could trust him and he would take care of me.”

She took another sip of the bourbon and leaned forward toward Christopher. “I’m not really sure how he did it, and I’m not sure I really want to know, but slowly, without raising suspicions, he emptied the accounts and opened new ones in Delaware for me.”

“Why are you telling me this?” questioned Christopher.

“After I fully recovered, I went back to school. I became a counselor. I gave advice to people about how to deal with jerks like you.” She laughed a little to herself. “Isn’t that funny?” No comment from Christopher. “It wasn't fulfilling though. I finally realized it was because I had never dealt with you.”

The silence in the room was interrupted by Christopher’s sobbing.

Bethany continued. “I use the name Kate Bennett now, Katie to my friends. I’m still in Delaware. Milhaven, Delaware. After leaving my position as a counselor at Sussex County General, I decided to use my money to do something I thought I could really enjoy. I opened a wine bar. What do you think about that?”

Christopher said nothing, but managed to look up at her. In his eyes she could see his sadness.

She ignored the sadness. “It’s called Pinot Noir.” She laughed a little at her own cleverness. “I thought that was a perfect name, classy yet relaxed.”

Christopher seemed to have stopped sobbing. He sat in the floor, looking defeated.

“I’ve made new friends and created a wonderful life for myself. I just thought you should know that.” She searched her thoughts, making sure that she had said all she needed to say. “It may not be the life I thought I would live, but it’s surprisingly fulfilling and normal.”

Shaking his head and looking at her through squinted eyes of questioning he asked, “Then why are you here?”

“I’m not afraid of you knowing any more,” replied Bethany. “That I’m alive or where I’m living. You don’t get to have that power over me, Christopher. You’re the only baggage I have left and it’s time I got rid of it.”

Bethany stood up from the sofa. She finished the remainder of her bourbon. She walked over to the cabinet and placed the used glass back inside then closed the door. She walked over to where she had hung her portrait. She took it off the wall. She walked back to the sofa and anchored the portrait between the seat cushion and back. She picked up her purse and looked inside. She took out a small box.

“Bethany, what are you doing?” asked Christopher in a quivering voice as though fear had just swept through his body.

“The same thing you did to me,” replied Bethany with a sense of calm that she didn’t even know she could possess. “I’m leaving you to die.”

Bethany struck the match and threw it at her portrait. It immediately started to burn. Christopher was crying and struggling to break free of the grate. In some ways, the painting was the perfect image to sum up the moment. She had turned her back to the painter just as she was turning her back on Christopher. Her reflection in the mirror was like one last look through the window before turning to walk away.

The sofa was beginning to burn when she made her way out of the room. She didn’t look back. She didn’t want the image of Christopher seared into her brain. His screaming, crying and begging, coupled with the sound of the flames was enough to haunt her dreams for a lifetime if she would let it. As she made her way across the grand foyer, that single tear reappeared on her cheek. This time she didn’t wipe it away. She walked through the parlor and slipped out the side door into the garden, into the night.

She cautiously walked up the driveway of the mansion next door. She waited for the right moment to inconspicuously join the crowd and present the valet attendant with her ticket. As she waited for him to retrieve her car, she wondered how long it would be before the smoke was visible, curling in the sky.

Once behind the wheel, she drove down the driveway and back toward her life, already in progress. A life now free of the past and open to new possibilities. As she passed Ocean Point, she looked in the rearview mirror. She could tell the flames had engulfed the salon. As old as it was, Ocean Point would burn quickly. What had once been beautiful to her would soon be nothing more than orange glowing embers. Grandeur and memories reduced to ash. She couldn’t stop herself from hoping that Christopher had passed out before the flames reached him.

She turned on the radio. A female singer was singing a song she had never heard. Something in the lyrics caught her attention:

All of the things that I've done
Terrible things...you would never believe

She smiled and sped up.

END…

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4

©2010 Michael Rohrer

Ocean Point - Part 4

Before Bethany even knew what she was doing she had picked up the crystal candlestick and was running toward Ivy. There was no sound. The pounding of her heart in her ears left nothing but a throb. Even if Ivy screamed she hadn’t heard it. It was all happening so fast. Ivy’s eyes were wide as Bethany approached her. She seemed frozen to the spot where she was standing. Bethany did hear Ivy suck in one breath before bringing the candlestick down upon her head. Ivy crumpled to the floor. Bethany’s heart was pounding faster than she even knew was possible. She couldn’t let Ivy ruin her plan.

As fate would have it, Ivy fell inside the door leaving no trace of blood in the hallway. Tapped into the adrenaline, Bethany used all the strength she had to pull Ivy into the bedroom. She dragged Ivy to the foot of the bed. This wasn’t part of the plan, but she would have to improvise. She decided to leave the light on behind the closed door. She would use Ivy to her advantage. She wondered what Christopher would think when he saw the thin line of light at the bottom of the door. Where would his mind go when he opened the door and saw Ivy lying on the floor? Bethany thought her own image would inevitably be conjured in his mind. She found this new plan delicious and exhilarating. In the hallway, there was no evidence that anything out of the ordinary had happened.

After shutting the door behind her, Bethany walked downstairs. She didn’t know why Ivy was home and she didn’t know when Christopher might return. Now that it was upon her, things were happening quickly. She had to take a moment and regain her control. She walked into the salon and straight to the cabinet where Christopher kept the liquor. She opened the cabinet and scanned its contents. There was nothing cheap inside, but there was good and then there was best. She found the best bourbon in the cabinet and poured herself two-fingers worth.

She was decidedly calmer than one should be in a situation where the current wife of your husband is lying on the floor bleeding from a wound to the head, but then again, she was calm about what she wanted to accomplish. The bourbon didn’t hurt.

Her plan had already gone slightly off course so she thought about making one more change. She sat the drink down on the table just inside the door of the salon before she left the room. She walked back upstairs to her “shrine”. She slowly opened the door and peaked into the room. Ivy was still lying on the floor, unmoved, barely breathing, still alive. She could see the rise of Ivy’s chest with each shallow breath. She felt mostly nothing as she took a moment to just stare at the body. Mostly nothing. There was a small bit of sadness. Maybe it was merely the image of seeing a body lying at the foot of the bed where she had lain. That sadness, no matter how small, is the only thing that kept her from being truly insane. It was the one thing that kept her human.

She walked over to the fireplace and took a moment in front of the painting. It was a beautiful piece of artistry. She remembered sitting for it. It wasn’t a painting in the traditional sense. She didn’t just sit in a chair and stare at the painter. She wanted to do something different. Since people didn’t really sit for paintings anymore, she wanted it to be something unconventional. She had so admired the painting Venus at a Mirror by Peter Paul Rubens. That’s what she wanted. Her back to the onlooker while her face was reflected in a mirror.

While considering the painting, she delighted in the dress she had chosen to wear. It was a 20’s style, golden green satin gown - haute couture by Dior. It was stunning, with a low draped back made to show skin, the color perfect for her brunette hair. As her face was only a small reflection in the mirror, it was important to her that the gown be a piece of art in itself - simple, but worthy of a second glance. She no longer owned the dress. She had donated it to a charity auction to raise money for the Somerston Public Library after the painting made its debut.

She took the painting off the wall and made her way down the stairs. It wasn’t as cumbersome as she thought it might be. She wanted the painting to be in the salon, but not immediately apparent. She wondered how long it would take Christopher to notice something in the room was different. If the painting were hanging in its former spot in the salon, it would seem natural upon first sight. It was sure to get some kind of reaction.

Bethany realized she didn’t know where she had discarded her purse. The last time she actually remembered it was when she was searching for her invitation so that the valet would park her car. She sat the painting down and paused. She went back to the parlor, the room where Christopher had almost caught her. She hoped she had left the bag behind the sofa.

It was indeed there on the floor. She picked it up and took a moment to marvel at the room she was in. It was still so lovely. She and Christopher had once made love in this room. Really it was probably more hot sex than making love. It was a moment so intense and passionate they couldn’t keep their hands off of one another. They barely made it into the mansion before they started tearing each other’s clothes off. It had been fast, but good - an explosion of desire. They both were so out of breath, lying on the floor, that they started laughing at how hard they each were breathing. She laughed a little to herself even now at the recollection.

The room was also tainted. It was the room where Bethany had seen Christopher kissing Ivy. She didn’t want to be in the parlor anymore. In fact, she really didn’t want to be inside Ocean Point. She wanted - needed - Christopher to come home so that she could get on with it, get done with it.

She took a breath, turned the light in the parlor off and made her way back toward the salon. She wanted to add a little extra kick to Christopher’s psyche when he saw the portrait. She walked straight over to the entertainment system. It didn’t take long to find what she needed. Christopher did like to keep things alphabetized. She put the CD into the player and set the controls to play over the entire house. She then picked up the remote control and put it in her purse.

She heard keys in the door. She didn’t have to wait much longer, but she wasn’t exactly ready. Her mind was plying her with conflicting thoughts. She turned off the light.

“Ivy, honey, I’m home,” said Christopher as he shut the main doors. “Ivy, are you awake?” He put his keys down on a table in the grand foyer and started removing his tuxedo jacket. “It was a dreadfully boring party especially without you there.”

Bethany stood just inside the doorway of the salon, out of the grand foyer’s light, watching Christopher starting up the stairs.

“Everyone was talking about the same things they talk about at the country club,” Christopher rattled on undoing his tie. “They all asked about you. I told them you were a little under the weather.” He stopped at the top of the stairs. Bethany could barely see him from where she stood, because of the angle of the staircase, but she could see him. She saw him notice the thin line of light shining underneath the door to their old room.

“Ivy?” He paused. “Hon, are you in there?” said Christopher as he walked toward the door. “Are you alright?” He knocked while opening the door.

“Oh my God! Ivy. Ivy, baby, can you hear me?”

Bethany could no longer see Christopher, but she could hear everything he was saying. She didn’t know what he did inside the room. She took an apprehensive step beyond the cover of the shadows that the dark salon provided. She saw him as he started running down the stairs. Her breath caught in her throat as she stepped back into the room with the gentle precision of someone avoiding a landmine. Now was not the moment for Christopher to discover her.

“Hang on baby. I’m calling an ambulance,” yelled Christopher.

Bethany quickly hid inside a closet located in the salon. She had just managed to close the door, with a slight ajar, when the light came on.

He ran to the phone and picked it up. He stopped before dialing. He noticed the portrait. It was reflected in the mirror that hung above the mantle. He put the receiver down as he turned in disbelief to stare at the portrait of Bethany. Through the crack she’d left in the closet door she could see his face full of confusion. She pulled out the remote control and pushed play. Journey’s Lovin’, Touchin’, Squeezin’ began playing over the speaker system. Christopher broke his gaze from the painting to look up at the ceiling as if he could see the noise that was now filling the mansion. She thought the line about the lover not coming home because he’s out lovin’, touchin’, squeezin’ another was appropriate, but she thought Christopher was too stupid to connect the dots and see the brilliance in her choice of song.

Bethany continued to watch him. He made his way back to the phone and lifted the receiver. Before he could dial, Bethany walked up behind him.

“Hello, Christopher,” she breathlessly whispered in his ear. If they had still been lovers it would have been an intimate moment.

He looked up and saw the living, breathing Bethany reflected in the mirror this time, but could do nothing before he felt the pain of the puncture from the needle she stuck in his neck. His hand went to the spot as he turned and stared at her.

With wide-eyed shock he tried to say her name but could only manage “Beh” before collapsing to the floor…

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3

©2010 Michael Rohrer

SYTYCD in Boston!

On Monday, I called Neal and asked him if he had plans for Thursday. He said he had to work. I said I knew that, but what about Thursday night, do you have to go to the gym or do you have homework? He said he did need to work on a project. Why I was asking?

Well, I had Thursday night and Friday off. I suggested that I come to Boston to watch So You Think You Can Dance with him. Actually, I asked if he would be willing to not watch Wednesday night so that we could watch the 2 hour performance and 1 hour results shows together.

He agreed that that sounded like a plan. I sat down at my computer and purchased the tickets. Nothing like a 4 hour bus ride to watch a little tv with a friend. I mean, why not?

I made a fantastic summer salad with pasta, cucumber, orange bell pepper, purple onion, corn and feta cheese, tossed with balsamic vinegar and olive oil, along with a fruit salad of mango, strawberries and blueberries. Healthy and so good. Neal didn't eat any of it. He's having a throat issue and is being very particular about what he eats. Neither of us had an issue with the homemade oatmeal chocolate chip cookies though! Nobody's passing that up.

For those of you who read the Amagansett blog, I can drink wine again. I bought a bottle of Malbec Rose. I thought Neal and I should try something new.

We had such a good time watching SYTYCD. We paused and rewound and discussed a lot. Completely what I thought it would be and completely worth the trip.

The weather on Friday was amazing. No humidity. Big, fluffy white clouds. I had to go to the beach. Having missed out on that part of my trip to the Hamptons, it was necessary. The beach near Neal's is one of my favorite places to go to when I visit Boston. It's so lovely. The water has a calming affect on me. I took off my sandals and walked in the sand. I walked to the dock that I enjoy and stood there just breathing it in. The smell of the water and the air.I decided to take photos. I started all the way to my left and 22 shots later I was all the way to the right. A panoramic view of what I was seeing.

Friday evening, I met Neal at his office and we went to see SALT. I was a little hesitant to spend 90 minutes of my short trip sitting in a movie theater, but Neal wanted to see it, and I thought it might be fun to see that movie with him. Boy was that ever the right choice. It was a roller coaster that I'm totally glad I strapped myself in for. It was thrilling and exciting and everything that a summer escape movie should be.

Post movie we went to Clarke's in South Station and had a beer and a great, honest, personal conversation. I do love that Neal and I share the history of questioning our sexuality, at the same time, in college. It's just so refreshing to talk to someone who knows me. I mean really knows me. Pre coming out and all these years post.

It's always worth the trip.

24 hours in Amagansett

Ah the Hamptons. A place of lore and wealth. At least that's what it had always been for me. My experience with the Hamptons had been through the eyes of characters while I watched the ladies of Sex and the City attend a party, Blair on Gossip Girl plan her next scheme or the Beales of Grey Gardens descend into squalor. As a resident of NYC for a little more than 13 years now, going to the Hamptons is finally something I can say I've done.

My moment came randomly. The executive director of the theatre where I work, hence known as The Boss, for the second summer in a row has taken the month of August to chill in the Hamptons. This year she was able to move in a week early and she invited the management staff to have a relaxing day at the house. None of us thought that my immediate boss would go and the other two guys I work with definitely didn't want to go, but I was desperate to go. Not desperate like "I'll kick, scream and pout" if you don't let me go, but desperate to find a way considering the most convenient opportunity ever, had finally presented itself in my life.

My boss, who is always good to me, found a way for me to be the representative from my department to attend. Excited beyond belief is how I felt. I was going to the Hamptons with friends and getting to stay in what was sure to be a fabulous home.

Departure time between 2:30pm and 3pm on Monday. I joined Ladybird, Miss JJ and Princess Fehr in a CR-V and we began our 24 hours of leisure. We faced the required traffic upon exiting NYC. It's just a fact of life. It doesn't matter at what hour you're departing, there will be traffic. It wasn't major delays, or even minor, just more leisurely than we really wanted for our leisure.

I don't want to make light of the travel or the traveling companions. There was lively conversation and music in that vehicle as we made our way toward the summer destination of many wealthy New Yorkers. However, it was just a lot of I-495 connecting to NY-27 and watching the GPS and reading the Google Maps print out before we finally found ourselves driving in what to me could be any country town in America. Seriously, I looked around at the corn fields and large pieces of empty land and thought of my own home town, Arlington. It made me think about growing up in my small town and how I knew I had to get out of there and live somewhere bigger. I always knew that. Small town life was not for me. The interesting thing is that living in the City, the first thing I think of as a vacation getaway is going somewhere that is reminiscent of the town where I grew up. It's just relaxing and I think there is a sense of safety because it's mental familiarity.

We passed many winery's on our way to Amagansett. That perked me right up. So many winery's, so little time. Upon entering the Town of East Hampton, we crossed into the hamlet of Wainscott. Nothing much to write home about there. Lot's of nursery's with beautiful landscaping. Hydrangeas are everywhere in the Hamptons. I love hydrangeas. Then we find ourselves crossing into the village of East Hampton. The village of East Hampton as well as the hamlets of Wainscott and Amagansett are all part of the town of East Hampton, I'll explain. I did a little research. So it seems that a hamlet is a term people use to reference a community within a town that is not incorporated as a village. A village is an incorporated area located within one town. Therefore, the Town of East Hampton has the incorporated village of East Hampton and the hamlets of Wainscott and Amagansett. Hope that's clear. It is for me now. Anyway, back to Main Street. It is the main thoroughfare of the small village of East Hampton. On either side of the road it looks like part of 5th Avenue and part of 57th Street in Manhattan combined and the progeny of their coupling settled in East Hampton. Cynthia Rowley, Coach, Tiffany & Co., Elie Tahari, Gucci, Ralph Lauren, Hugo Boss, Tommy Hilfiger, BCBG Max Azria, Chloe, Michael Kors, and Tori Burch. There were also many Citarella locations, interesting local shops, and the requisite Starbucks. You just can't get away from the coffee giant's chain of stores no matter where you go. I'm sure there are stores I missed or can't remember, but it was amazing to see them there and to know that at least for the summer months, they can sustain themselves with the wealthy clientele who darken their doors.

This was East Hampton. Many of the homes had names and the lawns were beautifully manicured. Oh, and Grey Gardens is there. Those of you who know me know that the prospect of actually seeing Grey Gardens made my heart flutter.

We arrived at our destination on Scrimshaw Lane and I just felt myself relax as I looked at the house in disbelief. Simply stated, it was sprawling. It was gorgeous. I was overjoyed at the idea of staying for just one night. I couldn't imagine how The Boss felt about staying for a month. One immediately asks the question of, "How can I come back to the City after this?" Of course, we all have to return to the reality of our lives at some point. However, living in that house, surrounded by all those trees and the sounds that emanate from them, paired with the relaxing pool and nearness of the ocean would make returning to normal hard for anyone. I didn't even think about the people who live there year round for whom the beauty I was marveling at was just normal life. An everyday occurrence to be taken for granted.

I was thankful. Thankful to be there. Thankful to be invited. Thankful to work in a facility where the people truly get along and enjoy each other's company. People who get along so well that there was never a question that spending the evening together would be awkward.

The Boss showed us around the house. There were at least 8 bedrooms, with living areas, a kitchen and other rooms thrown in for good measure. Almost every bedroom had its own private bathroom. It was something to marvel at as we made our way through the labyrinth of twists and turns and stairs to levels both up and down. One could easily have gotten lost or confused. My room was off of the kitchen, through a gate, left up a set of stairs, across a small foyer, turn right and pass through the laundry room into a small open space used as a children's play area and up another set of stairs. It was yellow, my favorite bedroom color. It was lovely.


After the tour, I quickly found myself on a plushy lounge chair by the pool with a glass of white wine in my hand and the highly enjoyable Princess Fehr sitting beside me. The stress of the City was gone. We left it somewhere on NY-27. The air was fresh, the sounds were peaceful, the mosquitoes were biting and the OFF! was being sprayed. Oh, and Eliza, the golden retriever, was wet from the pool and constantly ridding her body of the water by shaking next to Princess Fehr and me. A sight that made everyone laugh, every time. Eliza's reason for coming to us was we had made the mistake of throwing her ball, so she kept bringing it back to us. I got wise and started throwing it across the pool to the grass on the other side. It took her a while to figure out where it was and bought Princess Fehr and me some wet-dog-free time. There were moments, however, that I found myself covering up completely with a beach towel to protect myself and my precious drink from the spattering of water as she continued to shake and shimmy next to us. This elicited laughter from the crowd as well. I'm nothing if not good for a laugh.


I can't remember when in I put on my swimming trunks, but let's just say by this point I have them on.


A few more people had arrived and dinner was prepared. We had steak and ribs. That's all I can remember. Oh, yes, we had switched to Pinot Noir Rose by this point. So that's white wine and Rose so far. It's funny, but I can't remember what else we had on the table, by the pool, for dinner.

As the evening progressed we found ourselves in the pool again. We were swimming and diving and jumping. Eliza was big on rescuing. There was a moment where I was using a floating tube and she jumped in the water, bit down on the tube and began to pull it out from under me. She swam to the stairs, climbed out of the pool, and took her rescued tube to safety. This would be something we would all watch until we departed the next day. It was always funny, but there were times when we would only jump in when she was not readily available to rescue us.

There was a small group of us that had moved to the other side of the pool. The side where I kept sending Eliza to get her ball earlier in the day. We had a fire over there and chairs circled around it. We were still drinking wine. I had moved on to regular Pinot Noir by this point. That's white, rose, and red for those keeping tabs. There was a bottle of tequila, as well as other things, being passed for those who wanted to partake. There were huge marshmallows for s'mores. I made at least four myself and then started just roasting marshmallows with chocolate stuffed inside. This was not my idea. I copied it from a co-worker sitting next to me. I remember making two of those. The next day, rumor circled that I had made 12 s'mores. Lies I tell you, all lies. I was inebriated, but not that unaware.

When I went to bed that night, I was still connected to my brain enough to know that I should take a couple of Excedrin and drink some water in order to combat a hangover the next day. I slept like a rock. I barely moved. I knew this because the bed linens were barely ruffled.

I was in the room that had an Asian theme. When I found out I would be in that room, it was only natural to me that I bring my kimono. When I told The Boss I was bringing it, she burst out laughing. The kimono story made it's way into the staff meeting so everyone knew I was bringing it. So, when I got up the next morning, I emerged from my room in my kimono. There were only a few people up to appreciate it, but those who were, did. I woke up that morning at 8am. By 10am, with the smell of sausage and bacon in the air, I had to excuse myself from the table. I didn't tell anyone where I was going, I just made my way back to my room and laid on the floor. I was feeling a little queasy. It was weird. I thought I had done a sufficient amount of hangover prevention the night before. I guess I hadn't. I laid in the floor very still. I just thought, "If I lay here very still, it will pass." Eventually, I got up in order to move to the bed. Bad idea. The back of my tongue and throat gave me that old familiar feeling just before I vomit. I ran to the bathroom and found myself hugging the porcelain god. There was the coffee, the only thing in my stomach. I couldn't believe this was happening to me. My first trip to the Hamptons and there I was throwing up with a hangover. What a waste. I'm usually pretty good about knowing when to stop drinking because hangovers are no fun at all. The older I get the longer it takes to recover. Who wants to waste and entire day recovering? Not me, but that's exactly what happened.

Ladybird, came to check on me. You see, no one knew where I had gone. He came into my wing of the house and called my name. I mustered the strength to say answer him. He opened the door to find me laying on the bed. I explained my situation and he laughed a little, told me to feel better and closed the door. I continued to lay there, unmoving. He came to check on me a little later. I was still in the same position. He said that I would never live this down. I smiled as I acknowledged him. I knew that was the truth. First trip to the Hamptons. Everybody knows it. And here I am wrapped in a kimono, laying as still as possible, fighting the need to vomit, while all of my friends are out enjoying the beach, pool, weather, whatever. So smart am I.

I finally felt well enough that I could function outside of the bedroom. I made my way downstairs for the second time that day. All of the people who were scheduled to arrive on Tuesday had arrived. They all knew of my situation. All I could do was keep my dark glasses on and smile. I'm sure there were a few times I shook my head in disbelief that this was actually happening.

Ladybird, asked me if I still wanted to see Grey Gardens and if I felt well enough to do so. I wanted to, so we made our way to the CR-V. As soon as we started driving I had to roll the window down and take a deep breath of fresh air. My stomach wasn't as sure that I was ready for this as my brain was. Once the road got smoother, it was easier for me. We knew the general vicinity of where we were going, but not exactly where. The GPS was a little funky and would not let us put in the address for Grey Gardens. We made our way to Lily Pond Lane and peeled our eyes for West End Road. There on the right was #4 West End Road. That meant that the house, concealed by trees and flowering bushes across the street had to be #3. We backed up the vehicle and though an opening in the trees we could see the porch. There is was. Grey Gardens. I've seen the documentary countless times. I loved the musical and the HBO film. It's such a fabled story of two women who refused to leave their crumbling home. Two women who would rather live without plumbing and with cats and raccoons than give up the only thing that was truly theirs. Two women who had been born into aristocracy and had watched their fortune fade and their friends retreat from their lives. I was struck by the fact that I was actually there in front of the house. It was real. This was actually the East Hampton that Little Edie so despised. Even though I was still a little nauseous, I was so happy to be there and seeing that small glimpse was a highlight of my trip. I wasn't able to get a picture of the house. That is an unfortunate regret, but there just wasn't enough of the house visible. I was there though, and it will live in my memory.


Back to the house, it was time to retreat to my room once more. I needed to lay down and just sleep. I took a nap and felt better still when I awoke. I came downstairs to find food on the table. There were grilled chilled legs, grilled sirloin burgers, pasta salad, and peaches. I managed a chicken leg and half of a burger, as well as, a small portion of pasta. This was good. Finally, after an entire day, I felt like eating and was able to keep it down. There were merely two hours left of our time in Amagansett at that point.


I know that I wasted the entire day due to the previous night's alcohol consumption. I have beat myself up about that. It will just become one of the stories of my life that peppers into the conversation for humor. The story of how I had 24 hours in the Hamptons and spent most of it recovering. Ah well, that means another trip is in order. Maybe this time just a day trip on a train to the village of East Hampton. Maybe a visit to the beach or to the stores that line Main Street. I don't know. What I know is, I was there with friends. They may laugh at my situation, at me or with me, but they are my friends.

The generosity of The Boss is an amazing blessing in my life.

I laughed, I drank, I relaxed, I smelled, I heard, I vomited, I saw, I remember.


Next trip, not as much vino, see the ocean and take a picture of Grey Gardens.

Ocean Point - Part 3

As the open door shed more light on her situation, she saw that she was standing beside a sofa. She was able to duck behind it before Christopher turned the light on to examine the room for the source of the noise he had heard. Even though she had reset the lamp and nothing looked out of place, it seemed he needed to check further. As he started into the room Bethany heard Ivy call his name. He shut the door. This was probably the only time she would be thankful for Ivy in her life. In his haste, he didn’t make sure the door latched. It was slightly ajar, giving Bethany just enough light to find her way across the room.

She heard the front doors close. She waited a beat before exiting the safety of the blackness. As she opened the door, the mansion revealed itself in all its glory. She had hidden away, deep inside, her feelings about the place. She had loved living at Ocean Point. It was a grand estate. She and Christopher had no idea that his parents were going to give them the mansion as a wedding present – all that beautiful marble, the grand staircase, more rooms than anyone needed. There was a dining room, a salon, a parlor, a kitchen with butler’s pantry, and 5 bedrooms with attached baths. Everything was opulent, but the most magnificent part of Ocean Point, for her, was the grand foyer. It connected to a large open space from which all the other rooms on the ground level could be entered.

She remembered the first time she’d walked into the grand foyer. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the chandelier. It was dazzling and shimmering like a cluster of brilliant diamonds. She had never seen anything like it. Ocean Point was an old estate. It had been in the Wakehurst family for three generations. Of course the mansion’s electricity and plumbing had been updated completely. The furniture and light fixtures were modern. It was lavish. She knew what it was like to have money, but her parents didn’t live as extravagantly as the Wakehursts.

Being back inside Ocean Point awakened the joy she had always felt living there. Two things she adored the most about the mansion were the walls and the ceilings. The ceilings were filled with painted scenes that took her breath away; the walls with blues, greens, and yellows that seemed to be from some magical color wheel. The colors shimmered with elegance. It didn’t seem possible that one could walk into a Home Depot and have the colors mixed. There were other walls covered in wallpaper that made you want to reach out and touch them. Images of trees so full of ripe fruit that you were sure you could pick it, birds poised to take flight, peacocks with vibrant plumage, beautiful flowers that you were positive you could smell. Of course, the smell was coming from bouquets of flowers that, now, as then, were in every room she had seen, perfuming the air.

She had nothing to do but wait for Christopher and Ivy to return from the party. She made her way across the foyer to the grand staircase. She was torn. Part of her wanted to look through the mansion and the other part was apprehensive. She knew as she approached her old room the memory of that night would flood back to the present. She didn’t want to put it off. She didn’t want the fear to win. She wanted to confront the room just like she wanted to confront Christopher.

She made her way up the stairs, turning back to look over the grand foyer when she reached the top. She couldn’t help but remember during their first year of marriage when they hosted a party. She had watched from the very spot she now stood as her guests enjoyed themselves. She could see it like it was happening right then. The conversations and laughter. The slaps on the back when seeing an old friend. The air kisses, the cheek kisses, the hugs of hello and goodbye. The champagne glasses never empty. The orchestra filling the room with melodies that bounced off the walls. The flowers permeating the air with their ambrosial fragrance. It was a happy time.

There was never any indication to her that Christopher was unhappy, but there were unexplained absences. She didn’t think much of it until those absences became more and more frequent with no real explanation. She had always been able to reach him during the times when no one seemed to know where he was. Always. Until the night she couldn’t. That was the night she started being suspicious of him. She didn’t want to ask him if he was having an affair without any proof, but she couldn’t help feeling that an affair was the only possible explanation.

Bethany knew that Christopher wouldn’t want to be caught, or even suspected of, having an affair. He would lose his inheritance if he got a divorce within the first 5 years of marriage. A stipulation that Grandfather Wakehurst put in his will for all those who inherited his money. Honor and family name were very important. It was no secret, the stipulation. Everyone who married into the Wakehurst family knew about it. What Bethany also knew was there was no clause on the will separating the Wakehurst from his money should the spouse disappear or die.

Christopher loved the affluence that his money and name imparted upon him. His was an old-money world and he wouldn’t endure a hit in the purse. Bethany knew Christopher wanted to have his cake and eat it too. She also knew her trust in him had been broken.

She now stood outside the bedroom door. There was a conscious hesitation before opening it. She wondered if it was the bedroom Christopher shared with Ivy. It didn’t matter though. It was the bedroom he had shared with her. It was the bedroom where he turned his back on her. It was the bedroom where he left her dying. She took a breath and turned the knob. This was no time to be scared. She had long ago put the scared, fragile little girl inside of her to rest. That girl died the night Bethany almost died.

With the door open, she stepped inside and turned on the light. It looked just like she’d left it 10 years ago. Well, not exactly. There was no blood on the floor. But other than that, it looked as if the room had been put in order and then shut away behind the door - still vibrant, still red. He didn’t share this room with Ivy. This room was all about Bethany. It was almost a tribute to her by the mere fact that it was unchanged. It was a shrine; a room no longer in use. Her painted portrait was actually hanging above the mantle. She wondered what it meant that he had kept the room. Was it a trophy for what he had done to her? Could it be that he stole moments away in his life to sit inside this room and bask in the glory of his achievement? Or was it a punishment he kept to remind him of that terrible night? She felt sick, but the real wave of nausea hit her when she looked at the floor at the foot of the bed. She closed her eyes as the present gave way to memory.

She remembered seeing Christopher kissing Ivy. She couldn’t believe he had the nerve to bring her into their home. It was almost like he wanted her to catch him. Maybe he did. She stood frozen to ground for a moment, willing herself not to faint, before turning away. She knocked over a vase as she ran from the scene of the kissing. She heard Christopher running toward the sound of the crash. She turned and saw him see her as she ran up the stairs. When she reached their room she ran inside and slammed the door. It never occurred to her to lock it.

He burst through the door and walked with purpose straight to her. She tried to pull herself together and stop crying before she looked him in the eye. When she did look at him, she saw no remorse. It was a look she had never seen on his face before. He looked angry, pissed off.

It seemed to Bethany a moment of sheer panic. Before she knew what was happening he was choking her. He pulled her to her feet. She tried to pull his hands away, but the man she had never seen be able to stay mad at her, was different, changed. He seemed to be lost in his own mind. She remembered the pain his hands were causing her neck and the struggle to breathe. She was gasping for air. Her head was pounding. The light was fading. She was slipping into unconsciousness, death. Her body began to go limp and the light around her faded to black. And just like that, he let go and her body fell to the ground.

She couldn’t move and was barely breathing, but her assault was not over. Consciousness was returning. She was just beginning to open her eyes. They were no more than slits, but she could see his feet approaching her. Then she felt excruciating pain as she was hit on the head. She knew that she was bleeding. Something must have snapped him back to reality, because he screamed. He dropped the object and didn’t hit her again. His primal, agonizing scream was the last thing she remembered as the blackness consumed her once more.

Bethany snapped herself out of the painful memory and back to reality. With her right hand she wiped a single tear away from her cheek. She let her gaze move around the room, then she settled on the bureau. More precisely, she settled on the crystal candlesticks. She knew without any proof that it was one of the pair that had been his weapon of choice. She wanted to walk away from them, but her curiosity made her walk toward them. As she was about to pick one of them up she heard a voice behind her.

“Who the hell are you?”

She turned to see Ivy standing in the doorway…

Part 1
Part 2

©2010 Michael Rohrer

Ocean Point - Part 2

With her dark glasses firmly in place, she opened the door to the Mayfield Inn. She was prepared for Mrs. Mayfield’s questioning eye, but it was a non-issue. Mrs. Mayfield was not working behind the desk. It seems after 20 years the owner had decided to take some much deserved time off. She had hired someone Bethany had never seen. That worked in Bethany’s favor. There was nothing to hide. Bethany had made the reservation using a fake name and paid in cash when she registered.

Bethany didn’t anticipate being in Somerston very long. When she got to her room she opened her solitary suitcase. Along with the clothes she had a photo album. It had been an impulse to bring it. She wasn’t even sure why she still owned it. Once she looked at it in the suitcase, the feelings that she had had upon seeing Christopher made more sense. She did still feel love for him.

The album was of her wedding day - memorabilia that should have been destroyed years ago. As she opened it, the first page was her wedding invitation. She remembered the day that she and her mother finally came to an agreement on what it should look like.



Bethany smiled when she thought of her mom, particularly at that moment. They both gave a little. But compromise is what it about. She got to have everything in lowercase and her mother got the design she thought both elegant and modern.

As Bethany turned the page, the photos were nothing new. She had seen them all before - professional shots, as well as, candids from that glorious day. There was no rain, only sunshine and beauty. The September air was perfect. Dusk with a breeze, candlelight and every white flower available. The gardens at Ocean Point had never been more beautiful. There was no expense spared. Her parents gave her the wedding of her dreams. Maybe even of theirs. Christopher was her love and life. Her white knight. And as cliché as it might sound, he was ever the charming prince. Loving, caring, handsome, with a beautiful smile, and arms made for holding her. She found herself smiling, lost in the moment. She had to focus on her reason for being there. She stopped smiling, closed the album and her eyes, and then took a deep breath.

She placed the album back in the suitcase making sure to place it under her clothes so as to keep the sentiment in her heart from longing to see it again. To regain her focus, she opened a small case and took out the vile of clear liquid. As she looked at it, her lips formed another smile. This time she thought the smile was appropriate.

She didn’t want to waste another second. It seemed like as good a time as any to put her plan into motion. There was no need for her driver. She was perfectly capable of driving to Ocean Point. Besides, this was her quest, her journey. She needed to take it by herself. She got behind the wheel and gripped it. She found that her nerves were much less prevalent than when she first arrived in Somerston. There was a sense of calm and peace about her. She started the car and pulled out of the parking lot of the inn and drove toward the water and her destination.

Bethany knew exactly where to park so the car would go unnoticed. She had been keeping up with the news in Somerston for years. The annual Peony Ball was being held that night. The hosts lived next door to Christopher and Ivy. It would be easy to slip into the line of party guests waiting to have the valet park their cars.

When she arrived at the valet stand, she was asked to present her invitation. Undeterred, she began to search through her bag for it. She knew it didn’t exist, but they didn’t. She could hear the orchestra playing inside, a beautiful song she couldn’t quite place, but knew she had heard before. Just then, a gentleman gave her a claim ticket and jumped into her car and drove it away. No one seemed to be paying much attention to her or the fact that she hadn’t produced an invitation. Bethany wondered silently if the staff had been informed that the rich don’t like to be kept waiting. She walked away while a melancholy horn from the orchestra played As Time Goes By in the background. She finally recognized the tune. She thought to herself that time had gone by, but tonight was now.

The first part of her plan had gone almost exactly as she’d pictured it. She hoped that Christopher and Ivy had already arrived at the party. She knew they would be invited. It was inevitable. The scandal of their marriage had long died away and their money had ingratiated them right back into the society that once shunned them.

Some things never changed. Christopher only left the lights of the gate on when he was not home. Everyone in Somerston knew that. He wasn’t the cleverest of men. She smirked a little at his ridiculous ability to be so predictable. She slipped through the side door of the gate and made her way up the driveway toward the side of the house. He felt secure enough behind his large gates that his grounds went unpatrolled. If she knew Christopher, and she already knew that she did, the door off of the side garden would be unlocked. It had always been unlocked. Knowing him so well was going to make this easier than she thought.

She eased open the door. The room was black and empty of people. As she stepped inside and closed the door she found herself engulfed in the blackness - blackness as dark as she presumed her revenge-filled soul to be. The layout wasn’t exactly as she remembered it, which made sense to her. It had been 10 years after all. She bumped into a table and nearly toppled the lamp. She stifled the need to scream, but couldn’t stifle the curse word that passed her lips. As she was readjusting the lamp, a light came on under the door across the room. They weren’t gone yet. She froze for a moment, unable to breathe. She heard the door opening and saw more light filling the room as the opening got larger. The outline of the person opening the door was Christopher. She was sure of it. She wished there was a penny to see and pick up from the floor because right now she needed luck to find a way out of this situation or everything she had planned would be over before it started…

Part 1

©2010 Michael Rohrer

Ocean Point - Part 1

When the Rolls Royce came to a stop, the dream she had been dreaming vanished like fog after sunrise. She was finally here. Back in Somerston, Rhode Island, parked in front of Ocean Point, the place where it happened. Her nerves were showing themselves, but her excitement was more present than her fear.

As the haze of sleep disappeared she looked out the window of the car. There he was, Christopher, unloading suitcases from the trunk of his Mercedes. She couldn’t help but wonder where he’d been. Where they’d been. She wasn’t prepared for the rush of feelings that washed over her when she saw him. She thought it would be nothing but anger, but after 10 years she was surprised to find remnants of love mixed in with the anger. It was anger that made her upper lip curl in disgust, that knotted in the pit of her stomach; but was it love that made her heart beat a little faster? Maybe it wasn’t love. Maybe it was just adrenaline. Whatever it was, Bethany was not prepared for any other feeling but anger. She had a plan and she had to stick to it. There could be no thinking with her heart, only with her head.

She had seen enough. She asked her driver to take her to the inn once Christopher was inside the house and couldn’t see the car drive away. She didn’t need to see him anymore and she certainly didn’t need to see Ivy. Seeing Ivy might make her retch in the back seat of the car. Ivy Ashfield was the woman that Christopher has married after her “death.” Ivy, it could be said, was the person Christopher had “killed” her for.

“Beautiful socialite Ivy Claire Ashfield weds Christopher David Wakehurst in a garden ceremony on the grounds of the Wakehurst Estate, Ocean Point.” It was hard for Bethany to remember a time when that headline wasn’t burned into her brain.

The headline and all the pain connected with it suddenly became less important when she arrived at the inn. She had been missing and presumed dead for the last 10 years. She made her reservation under an assumed name. In keeping with the anonymity and secrecy, she wore a large hat and sunglasses. None of that changed the fact that she was back in the town where she’d grown up and “died.” She knew most everyone and they knew her. Keeping her time there a secret was going to be difficult and she knew it.

Ten years isn’t really that long when you think about it. Things hadn’t changed that much. She recognized the voice of the owner of the inn when she made the reservation. Mrs. Mayfield had owned the Mayfield Inn for at least 20 years. Returning to her hometown was painful enough. Without her parents to turn to, the Mayfield Inn was the closest thing to a home she could think of.

She wasn’t sure how anyone in Somerston would feel to see her again. She wasn’t sure that anyone would even recognize her. She hoped they wouldn’t. It didn’t really matter though. She didn’t need their love, respect, or approval. What she wanted was revenge…


©2010 Michael Rohrer